Mismatched Under the Mistletoe - Jess Michaels Page 0,30

let out a gasping cry in the quiet and pulled from her body. She caught his spurting cock, stroking him through the pleasure as he writhed above her.

Then he collapsed down, his breath hot on her neck. His hands shaking as he smoothed them over her sweat-dampened skin. It was quiet for a long time before he lifted his head.

“Are you…well?” he asked.

She stared at him. Even in this moment, he wanted to take care of her, just as he always took care of her. How lucky she was to have a person like him in her life. And how lost she would be if he weren’t there anymore.

That thought sobered her, but she managed to keep a smile on her face. “I am very well, Cav,” she whispered. “I promise you.”

That seemed to appease him, for he lifted himself off of her and got up. He began searching out their tangled clothing, handing over item by item to her first. He helped her smooth and button, putting her back together. Only when she moved to her mirror to tend to her hair did he put his own clothing back on. She watched him in the reflection as he fixed himself. Wished in that unguarded moment that she could just keep him undone and wild in her bed. That she could forget the world outside for a little longer. Perhaps never let it and all its uncertainty back in.

But she couldn’t. This had been a moment. The moment had passed. What would happen next…well, she couldn’t lose him as a friend. That was all that mattered now.

She smiled as she faced him. “Do I look presentable?”

His gaze flickered over her and he shifted. “Always,” he said, his voice low and rough.

She started as she realized that was desire in his tone. And that she’d heard that same thing from him many times over the years. But that wasn’t possible. She pushed it aside.

“They’ll begin gathering for pre-supper drinks in an hour,” she said, glancing at the clock on the mantel and wondering at how the time had flown while he pleasured her.

“Yes,” he said softly. “And you will need to ready yourself. As will I. So I’ll go.” He took her hand and squeezed it, then moved to the door. There he stopped and looked back at her. “I hope you will never have occasion to regret this, Emily.”

She shook her head. “I never will.”

She said it with strength and it appeased him, for he smiled before he stepped out of her chamber. When he was gone, though, the uncertainty took over. Everything in her life was about to change. She’d known that before she came to the country, before she concocted this wild idea for a party. Cav was her constant…though she hoped what she said was true. She hoped she’d never regret this surrender, and she also knew she would if it meant things with him would change.

He was all she had, in the end. She couldn’t lose him for something so foolish as desire. She wouldn’t.

Cav sat at the end of the long table, far from Emily’s side, and watched her. She was observing the room, and he could see that she was…troubled.

The worry was partly because of him. He knew that. When she looked at him, she blushed every time. She worried her hands before her. She fidgeted as she was sometimes wont to do because she was nervous or uncertain.

He’d wanted her forever, and having her had been more powerful, more wonderful, more satisfying than he’d pictured in even his most heated and hedonistic dreams. Even now as he imagined the squeeze of her sex around his, the soft surrender of her gasps of pleasure, his body reacted.

He knew she’d been happy while they were in each other’s arms. But now she was thinking. Always thinking. One of her best qualities, until it spiraled her into a dozen worst-case futures. He could see her doing that now when she looked at him. See her writing a tale where their friendship ended because she’d let him lick her until she cried out his name in the quiet.

“Bollocks,” he grunted beneath his breath. He was going to have to tread lightly now. Be careful in how he approached her while she stewed.

He couldn’t lose her. He wouldn’t.

He took a sip of wine and watched as her gaze flitted over the table. If she was troubled when she looked at him, she was equally so as she surveyed